


Saturday People

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anti-social, Blow Jobs, M/M, Morning After, Raver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:04:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow there is a raver kid in his bedroom. Gerard just goes with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday People

The first thing Gerard notices is how colourful the guy is. Mikey hangs out with two types of kids these days, both nightclub patrons of course. Mikey likes being around the kind that can supply the drugs, and the kind that can supply the music. Of course, both can supply the other in some way or another, but indie-goths tend to look at E as beneath them and Mikey’s not really one for techno. Either gender of either group provides sex, neither ravers nor goths are known for their strong heterosexuality. Neither is Mikey. Normally he seems to be able to convince them to do everything in a bathroom stall, or in his shitty car, but sometimes he brings someone with him for a chance at a bed. Mikey tends to only bring the indies home, he has to be responsible for neon kids coming off E, but dark kids tend to be able to take care of their own drunk asses.

It’s not like Gerard disapproves. It’s Mikey’s life, Mikey’s orgasms, Mikey’s fuckin’ bedroom. Hell, he could probably score the same set of people if he tried. He just doesn’t want to leave his basement to try. It wouldn’t be that hard, indie kids bathe as often as he does, and if he wanted to rave he could just draw some mystical creature on an undershirt and buy a glowstick somewhere. But every night as he hears Mikey travel the stairs, the invitation unsaid but implicit, he shrugs and stays where he is. It’s easier to just jerk off.

Apparently that’s no longer an option. Now the rave has decided to come to him, in the form of an absurdly tall teen with a purple hoodie and white jeans. He looks pretty fucking out of place in his bedroom, but he doesn’t seem put off at all. In fact, the boy comes closer, peering at Gerard’s shelves. “Is that a skull?”

“Yeah?” Normally Gerard would be going on in great detail about Lucy but it’s three in the morning and Gerard is awake because he has too many thoughts and not enough alcohol, and Mikey is upstairs, awake because he’s scrubbing off the smoke and sweat and come, and they both know the other is awake, but there’s no need for interaction. Gerard doesn’t interact much anymore, Mikey does enough for the both of them. If he can hardly talk to family, it’s even worse with strangers.

“Cool, cool. Look, can I blow you? I think that would be really awesome. Because the guy I went home with, I guess that’s your brother? He just fucked me, but I really want to suck someone.”

“What?”

“I have to explain a blowjob? Okay, whatever. I really wanted to blow someone so I went out so I could find someone to blow. With me so far? The guy, Mike I think, he wanted to fuck and I was obliging but he rolled his eyes when I suggested round two so whatever. I left. But I mistook doors and you’re here and I just really fucking want a cock. So?”

Gerard just blinks at him. Things like this don’t happen, people don’t wander into his bedroom and beg to have sex with him. That’s just not how life works. But the guy mistakes his stunned stupidness for something else. “It’s not gay you know. You don’t have to touch me.”

If there’s one thing to jolt Gerard out of his silence it’s an accusation of bigotry. “What? Fuck that. Fucking heteronormativity, everyone thinking everyone needs to be straight.”

The guy rolls his eyes at him. “Okay. Whatever, you’re not straight. And I’m Gabe, if you care enough to try to remember. Take your pajamas off now?”

He should really have morals, he knows. No fucking crazy people, or people his brother has fucked, or something. He should say something like ‘go back to Mikey’, or ‘get out of my room’, or even ‘want me to call you a cab?’. But Gabe comes closer and puts a hand on the waistband riding low on his hip. Standing beside him he’s so fucking tall, and if Gerard’s got a type, it’s that, long and lean. Or maybe it’s just people that don’t look like him, considering he dated a girl in university that was no more than 4’10. But this guy’s hand is on him and he doesn’t want it to get off. _He_ wants to get off. And if that makes him a bad person, well, so’s Mikey, and Gerard can handle being the same as Mikey. He cants his hip into the guy’s hand.

This great smile bursts over Gabe’s face, large enough to rival the Cheshire Cat. In one quick motion he drops to his knees, the distance seeming far thanks to his long legs. He mouths Gerard outside his sleep pants. It can’t taste good A because they’re flannel, and B because he can’t remember the last time they were washed, but Gabe doesn’t seem to notice either fact, just keeps mouthing until Gerard’s rocking forward. By the time Gabe pulls the pyjamas down the crotch is sodden with saliva. Gerard’s hardly one to care about the state of his clothes when he’s in his normal state, wet pants don’t matter at all when Gabe smirks then licks the length of his shaft.

Before Gabe has much of a chance to really get going, Gerard jams his fingers into the messy hair in front of him. He vaguely wonders how much of it is because of Mikey and how much of the look is a hair sprayed tousle created in a bathroom mirror after twenty minutes of combing. It doesn’t really matter though, all that matters is that Gabe doesn’t pull off to bitch when he grabs on hard. It’s been a long time since his last shared sexual experience and any thought of blowjob etiquette basically flew out the window when a tongue touched him.

Maybe Gabe is telling the truth in his genuine want to suck cock -after all, it’s not really the sort of thing you’d lie about, is it?- because he’s good at it. It’s like that cliche, practice makes perfect. Even though Gerard knows it’s not true because no matter how much he draws he can always find flawed lines, Gabe makes him think it could be true. Gabe knows exactly how to use his tongue, his lips, how to bob his head at the perfect speed. In short, Gabe is like some sort of sucking champion.

It’s over almost absurdly fast. It’s easy to be overstimulated when you don’t leave the basement for weeks at a time. It occurs to Gerard a bit belatedly as Gabe is licking his lips and moving his adams’ apple that a condom probably should have come into play. But it’s a bit late now to worry about STDs so instead Gerard makes an awkward gesture and says “Do you want me to take care of you?”

“No I’m good. Your brother did that earlier.” It should probably creep Gerard out, but it doesn’t. They’ve shared everything else, taking turns with a random raver in white jeans that glow in the UV light only seems right.

With lack of anything better to do, Gerard scrounges on the floor until he finds a pair of no cleaner, but at least drier pyjamas and pulls them up. He’s sort of sweaty and gross, but he can shower tomorrow. Or sometime during the week, it doesn’t really matter. Something he forgot about having a partner; it makes him sleepy in a way that simple jerking off doesn’t. He could probably get a few good sketches out of the line of Gabe’s jaw, but he’d really rather fall into sleep before his brain wakes up again. Second winds are the enemy, except when there’s an epic DnD battle occurring. When he crashes onto his bed Gerard tightens himself against the wall so there’s room for another. If Gabe wants to stay, let him. A cab to whatever pretty suburban area a raver lives in will cost a lot, and will probably not come to his area of town at four in the morning anyway.

When he wakes up Gabe is gone. Which is his prerogative, so Gerard doesn’t really care. It was a fun night, and he hopes the guy got home alright, but he’s not going to spend any time worrying about it. Gerard goes upstairs for milk to pour on the cereal he has stashed under his bed. It’s a special brand, better than the all-grain shit mom gets, and if he doesn’t guard it with his life, Mikey will have every last bite. In the kitchen Gabe is eating a banana leaning against the counter. He doesn’t know when his mom left for work but he’s happy for it. He can only imagine the questions that might come up.

“Need my protein” he says, tipping the banana towards Gerard.

“I think that’s potassium?” It’s been a long time since cooking class in grade nine, but Gerard’s pretty sure there are no fruits with protein in them.

“Whatever.” The zipper on his bright purple hoodie is pulled down, showing he in no way considered wearing a shirt to a club in the middle of March.

Gerard’s marshmallows have already tinted the milk an odd pink when Mikey enters the room. Eyes closed he goes directly for the coffee but somehow stops in instinct right before colliding with Gabe. Mikey’s eyes pop open, half hidden by his mat of hair. “What the fuck? I thought you left.”

“I got distracted,” he explains calmly, smiling around his mouthful of banana.

“Jesus Christ.”

It’s weird but frankly it isn’t Gerard’s problem anymore. He let Gabe sleep here, he let him have breakfast. If Mikey wants to have some morning after confrontation that’s his choice. Gerard goes back downstairs, plastic bowl in hand.


End file.
